


We Beg But One Boon More

by BonitaBreezy



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Baze basically gives zero shits about anything but Chirrut, Canon Disabled Character, Discussion of Death, M/M, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Tumblr Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 21:23:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BonitaBreezy/pseuds/BonitaBreezy
Summary: It is after Chirrut falls violently ill and loses his sight that Baze makes the most selfish request he will ever make in his life.





	We Beg But One Boon More

It is after Chirrut falls violently ill and loses his sight that Baze makes the most selfish request he will ever make in his life.

He has been raised in the ways of the force, in the life of the temple. He knows that attachments are good only so long as they are to his brothers and sisters in regard to the service of the temple, or to the pilgrims and people who come to the guardians for help or to learn the teachings.

He also knows that he has never been good at compartmentalizing his emotions, and that Chirrut Îmwe means much more to him than the masters would approve of, were they to know the depth of his feelings. All they know is that they were raised together, that they’re fiercely loyal to each other and that they function better as a unit than they do apart. And they are incredibly effective when apart. That is all Baze would have them know, because he would burn the world to ash before he’d let himself be separated from Chirrut.

He knows that there is nothing to fear, since everything is as the Force wills it. But when Chirrut complains for weeks of sore muscles and migraines, Baze worries. When he becomes snappish and irritable and stops eating, Baze frets. When he wakes Baze up in the middle of the night, vomiting and shivering even while hot with fever, Baze is afraid.

He scoops up his friend and rushes him to the healers, trying to babble any sort of explanation he can about the situation while his mind buzzes with fear and Chirrut shakes uncontrollably in his arms.

When he is chased from the medical wing and told to return to bed, Baze stews, and he waits. When a week passes with no word on whether or not Chirrut will be okay, he broods, a sullen gray cloud above his head that keeps his brothers and sisters at bay, even as they offer prayers.

When, finally, he is let back into the medical ward to check on his friend, and he finds him weak and tired with eyes that have gone milky blue with sightlessness, he cries. Even as Chirrut hushes him and assures him that everything is all right, that the has already mourned for his loss and is ready to move on to his future, Baze is angry, more angry than he knows a guardian should be. He’s angry at the world, at the Force, at his own failures to notice something was amiss and get Chirrut help before it was too late.

But Chirrut, beautiful, wonderful Chirrut, just presses their foreheads together and strokes his tangled hair back from his face. With a few quiet words and his mere presence, Chirrut calms the storm that rages within Baze’s gut. He pulls it in and settles it down, until it comes to rest in his chest, calm and sure once more, and Baze knows that he could never do without him.

So, selfishly, he makes a request. The only real request he ever makes of Chirrut, for a promise they both know he might not be able to keep.

“You have to let me go first,” Baze says, clinging tightly, their foreheads still pressed together and breaths mingling.

“Baze?”

“When we must leave this life,” Baze says. “You must promise to let me go first. I can’t bear to be without you.”

“All is as the Force wills it,” Chirrut informs him sagely.

“I don’t care,” Baze says urgently. He needs this reassurance. He needs to know that he’ll never experience that sick nervousness again. He needs to know he won’t be left adrift, with no anchor to pull him back in. “Promise me, Chirrut. Me first.”

Chirrut pulls him closer and presses a soft, forbidden kiss to his mouth.

He promises.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on tumblr but the traction it got was underwhelming to say the least. Since I crave validation, I'm reposting it here.


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